


Silver Falls

by IrLaimsaAraLath



Series: Pride Goeth [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Brief Nondescript Nudity, F/M, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-20
Updated: 2017-08-20
Packaged: 2018-12-17 23:02:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11861457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IrLaimsaAraLath/pseuds/IrLaimsaAraLath
Summary: Niyera Lavellan finds a much needed respite from being Inquisitor for a handful of moments before she's discovered.





	Silver Falls

**Author's Note:**

> Just some Solavellan fluff and angst.

Late afternoon sun slanted through the trees, shearing the verdant canopy in narrow swaths that painted pools of light on the forest floor.  Being steeped in sadness and tragedy made the Emerald Graves no less beautiful.  It seemed a shame that they’d spent so much of their time here spilling even more blood, but such was the way of things.  It could not be avoided.  They’d spent the balance of the day clearing the last of the Templar camps and dispersing the Freemen, and at last, there was time to take a breath.  Blackwall had made mention of well-defensible campsite he’d noted in their passage through the woods, so they followed his lead in that direction.  Little more than halfway there, Solas excused himself from the group, claiming to have seen the ruins of a structure and a large statue that he wanted to explore.  That meant he’d be camping there tonight.  Niyera stared after him as their paths diverged, but he never turned to look back.

 

When they reached the pillared remains of what was once a much larger structure, they made camp.  Tents were pitched, supplies taken account of, and sighs of relief breathed as at last they could finally relax.  As she began to cast off her armor, piece by piece, she took account of her companions.  Cole was wandering amongst the trees on an errand for firewood, but even from this distance, she could see that he was already distracted by a pair of rams striding side-by-side through the grass.  He would be a while.  Blackwall, on the other hand, had settled down, propped against the stack of their bedrolls, reclining as he pulled a small carving from a nearby pack.  He claimed it was to be a halla, but she was yet to see the resemblance.  At present, it looked like more of a slender-legged bronto.  He insisted that she just needed to be patient, she would see eventually, it would come together.  Unfortunately, patience had never been one of her most abundant qualities.

 

A weight, both literal and figurative, had been lifted from her shoulders as she set down the last piece of her armor and rolled her shoulders forward then back to ease the knots in the muscles.  Though she was tired, she was restless, and the idea of filling these moments of peace with busy work did not appeal to her.  She wanted to walk the forest, to be still in its sanctuary - a luxury she had not had since leaving her clan to attend the Conclave.  Most of all, Niyera sought solitude.  Her thoughts were as brambles, tangled and sharp, confusing and thick.  She just needed to be alone with herself to sort the chaos that had become her idle mind.  It was easy enough to silence the nagging whispers when stood deep in the fray, surrounded by the clash of steel and the threatening hum of magic.  The times between, however, were not so easily managed.

 

"I'm going to take a walk," she murmured as she retrieved her staff and satchel.  Blackwall cautioned her to be careful, as he did, and she promised that she would try, as she did.  With no further words, she departed.  Her feet took her along the river's bank, through a maze of mossy stones and winding curves.  She walked against the currents, until she found herself at the foot of the Silver Falls, which were shrouded in an iridescent sheen of mist.  Nearly invisible amongst the boulders at the base was the beginning of a trail that led upward through the massive rocks.  She made her way, though the ascent became more of a climb and less of a hike the higher she traveled.  She was little more than halfway to the top when what little of the trail there had been vanished, and she could find no further purchase in the smooth faces of the rocks to climb the rest of the way.  Even so, as she stood at the edge of the ledge and swept back the fringe of leafy vines, she found the effort well-worth the time.

 

Behind the rush of the waterfall, the ledge cut into the mountain, a small cove housing a shaded depression fed and filled by the run off of the falls.  The water swirled endlessly, filled to overflowing before trickling out to rejoin the river below.   _ This is a rare find _ , Niyera thought to herself.  Stray bits of sunlight dappled the waters intermittently, but otherwise the alcove was shaded by the upper tiers of the waterfall.  Here, there was only the rush of the water, the air coolly stirred by its passing, and the distant call of birds within the forest.

 

Gazing at the pool, she wondered and hesitantly plumbed its depths with her staff.   _ Deep enough _ , she mused.  It wasn't often anymore that she found herself so utterly alone.  "Inquisitor Lavellan" was a ceaseless refrain from all sides, and she found its unending nature unnerving.  For at least a little while, she didn't want to be Inquisitor Lavellan.  She just wanted to be Niyera, in this moment, in this place.  In the past, so many times she'd found herself in forests deep and ancient, alone with her studies and with herself.  She'd occasionally thought those moments hopelessly dull.  She missed them now, those simple pleasures she'd failed to appreciate fully at the time.

 

She extended her arm, fingers stirring the air as her magic sought the stones lining the bottom of the pool.   _ Warm _ , she willed, and in a handful of moments, steam began to rise from the water's surface, misty plumes painting the cool air.  Propping her staff against the wall and dropping her satchel, she set a pair of wards on either side of the ledge not blocked by the waterfall.  An abundance of caution is preferable to being caught unawares.  Nodding with satisfaction at her work, she shed her leather jerkin and leg-wraps, her trousers, her tunic, boots, and at last, her small clothes.

 

When she dipped a toe into the water, she found it pleasingly warm and quickly strode into its depths.  Her hands skimmed the surface as the enveloping warmth rose around her, first to her thighs, then mid-stomach, then just over the swell of her breasts.  Like easing into a heap of furs piled fireside on a cold winter's night, she sighed her contentment as she bent her knees to sink in the pool to her shoulders.  With the release of breath went the tension in her lower back, and the cords of muscle knotted in her shoulders began to unwind.  The relief pulled her eyes closed as she basked in the sensation, every exhalation taking with it a little more of her weariness.  She lingered at the heart of the pool for quite a while, simply listening to the rush of the water, slowly sweeping broad strokes through the underwater with her arms, and breathing.  In and out.  In and out.

 

When she finally opened her eyes, she squinted under a blade of sun struck through the vined overhang at the fall's edge and retreated deeper into the alcove, out of reach of the light.  Bobbing lightly on her feet, she turned her back on the sun entirely and snagged her satchel to pull it close.  Digging inside, she retrieved a tiny waxed parchment-wrapped parcel, and carefully folding back the paper, she pulled free a rounded bar of soap.  When her clan had discovered where she was and that she was safe, they’d sent a message, along with a care package of sorts.  This was one of the things:  blackberry and sage soap made with halla milk.  Pressing the small bar against the tip of her nose, she inhaled deeply and closed her eyes.  So simple a thing, and yet she could not have treasured it more had it been made of gold.  Leaning back, she dunked her hair in the water, then gathered it loosely in her hand along with the soap as she straightened.  In a matter of moments, every strand was drenched in fragrant suds and piled atop her head before she continued on to the rest of her body.  Her face was last, and she scrubbed away a day’s worth of dust and dirt, blood and sweat.  Tucking the soap back in its package, she bobbed out to the center of the pool, held her breath, and sank beneath the surface.  She emerged clean, suds gone from her hair, and the surface of the pool was littered with swirls of bubbles.  The run off from the falls churned the water, and she watched as bit by bit, the islands of suds were swept away.

 

After wringing out her hair, she sent cords of magic into the pool again, renewing the warmth that constantly ebbed away with the overflow.  When the temperature was just right, she hummed contentedly and moved to fold her arms on the pool's back edge.  The water licked at the base of her collarbone and shoulder blades as she rested her chin in the cradle of her arms, the sudden chill sending goosebumps along her exposed skin.  She shivered involuntarily though she was far from cold, and the embracing warmth surrounding her chased away the last vestiges of tension in her muscles.  Turning her head to nestle her cheek against her forearm, she closed her eyes and simply enjoyed being.

 

Time passed unmeasured in her shadowed seclusion, and her mind touched here and there on the tangle of her thoughts, never lingering but skipping along, like a stone across the face of a still pond.  With all the inevitability of dawn breaking in the east, her thoughts turned to Solas, and the subtle warmth that grew in the pit of her stomach had nothing to do with the temperature of the water.  Solas was...complicated.  And, not in the same way that most men were complicated.  It wasn't that she had a wealth of relationship experience to draw from -- in fact, she had none at all personally.  That wasn't to say that she'd never known a man.  But, there is a very distinct difference between a relationship and a dalliance, between love and lust.  Among her clan, however, she'd had plenty of time to observe the former, and as her Keeper's First, she'd begun to be involved in the role of counselor, of confidant, of mediator.  Most often, the issues that arose in relationships, even new ones, were failures in communication or insecurities on one part or another.  Of course, these issues usually manifested as jealousy or anger or intolerance.  But, at their root was always miscommunication and insecurities.  

 

She couldn't help but think back on that now.  It was no secret that Solas held the world at arm's length, but even with all that had passed between them -- the Fade in Haven, the afternoon on her balcony, and all the little things that had led them to those precious moments -- he still wouldn't let her in.  Each glimpse she got behind his facade was one he never really meant to give her.  They were things she'd stolen, things he'd lost his grip on in rare moments of thoughtlessness or distraction.  She suspected his secrecy had to do with his past -- distant, not recent.  He was careful, so very careful, but she detected marks of his obfuscation in the way he calculated his speech, in the thoughtful pauses when his eyes drew distant, in the way he seemed to regard it as a betrayal of himself when he deigned to touch her.  As if the mere contact were a very guilty pleasure, one he craved and chastised himself for in the same heartbeat.  

 

For her, being both the object of his affection and a source of torment was conflicting.  It was not a question of whether she was taken with him, for she certainly was, irredeemably.  There had been moments when she thought perhaps he had similar feelings.  " _ Ar lath ma, vhenan _ ," he'd whispered, his voice a ghost that haunted the edges of her mind and took up residence in the sheltered chambers of her heart.  But had he meant it?  Though she couldn't imagine Solas to ever say anything other than precisely what he intended, she also couldn't imagine how it could be true if he continued to force her and keep her on the periphery of his life.  That simply wasn't how love worked.  It wasn't how she worked.  It was almost as if he was forcing on himself an exile from connection, denying the very base need to know and be known by another.  Even if in nothing more than a platonic way.  

 

There could be no doubt that the current climate of the world and her role within it created a unique set of complications.  She did not doubt that that was a factor here, but it wasn't the whole reason.  He knew she wasn't going to be ruled in all things by the mark or the Inquisition, both damnable things she had never asked for or wanted for herself.  There had to be something that was uniquely hers, hers alone, and for better or worse, she had come to believe he was that something.  And, she'd been aided in that belief by him -- his words, his touch, his kiss.  That's what made this all so frustrating and confusing.  Their every encounter was directly prompted by her prodding him into action, but he did  _ always _ react.  In the Fade at Haven, she’d surprised him with a kiss.  Would he have ever embraced her otherwise?  On her balcony, his affection for her was evident, but if she hadn’t stopped him, he’d have just walked away.  Why?  She didn’t understand his apprehension, but it was beginning to instill a certain insecurity in her, and she was not one typically given to self-doubt.

  
  


The breath of a sigh escaped her lips even as she heard his voice behind her.  "Because I would not see you harmed.  If the only way to keep you safe were to suffer your absence, I would have to do that as I could not do otherwise," he uttered, barely audible above the roar of the rushing water.  His voice startled her so soundly that in her haste to turn, water sloshed against the pool's edge and rebounded to splash the side of her face.  "Solas," she breathed haltingly, pushing the syllables past the drum beat throb of her heart that had risen in her throat.  She found him standing above her, a dark figure silhouetted from behind by the sun.  Reflexively, she moved to cover herself, such as she was able with her clothes on the other side of the pool.  "Ma vhenan," he murmured in return as he took hold of the lower hem of his shirt and stretched to pull it off over his head.  With easy steps, he trod into the pool, tossing the shirt aside as he waded in.  The conscious effort to exercise her will over the thrumming pace of her pulse kept her rooted in place as he approached until he was sunk chest-deep, barely a foot away, and gazing at her.

 

She suddenly felt incredibly small and vulnerable.  "You're here," she croaked hoarsely before clearing her throat to add, "why?"  She didn’t mean for her words to sound as...unwelcoming...as they did, but he’d caught her off-guard.  She wasn’t bashful exactly, but she also wasn’t accustomed to potential lovers creeping up unannounced while she bathed.  "I heard your call.  I simply answered,” he said as he regarded her with the coolly even stare of his grey-blue eyes, maintaining the respectable distance between them and never letting his eyes stray from hers.  Her brow drew low as she thought back, rolling his words over and over in her mind.  Her call?  She hadn't...one corner of her mouth twitched upward as realization struck, and she sighed a breath that was part relief and part disappointment.  

 

"I dozed off, didn't I?"  The sheepish hesitation in her voice was met with only the slightest hint of a smirk.  "I don't know.  Did you?" he queried, coyly tilting his head as his hands swept gently through the water at his sides.  She chuckled and nodded the affirmative, "I must have because if this weren't a dream, you wo-."  Her words broke off as she regarded him, and his brows raised in question.  She sank deeper into the pool until the water brushed her chin and her snowy white hair fanned over her right shoulder.  "If this weren't a dream, you wouldn't be in the water, and you would certainly still be fully clothed.  Besides," she continued as her viridian eyes flickered up to the wards on the walls of the recess.  "Those are still undisturbed."

 

"Is that so?"  She could more see his smile in his eyes than in the ghost of it that haunted his lips.  As his gaze slipped from her to the wards, he chidingly intoned, "And, who was the one that taught you those wards?"  Her only reply was silence and a petulant roll of her eyes upward as they both well knew the answer.  "You imagine I would not know how to circumvent my own spell?"  The curls at the edges of his mouth were in equal measure frustrating and alluring.  "So smug even in my unconscious," she offered in a small huff as she turned away from him, draping her arms on the pool's rim.  Idly, she wondered why her subconscious couldn't be bothered to at least conjure a more complimentary Solas if it was going to conjure one at all.  At her back, she felt the water stir, and when he spoke, his voice was closer than before.  "Why are you still so sure this is a dream?"  She closed her eyes as she leaned her chin onto her crossed arms.  

 

He'd helped her practice Fadewalking, gradually guiding her until she felt more comfortable, assured enough to begin to explore the storied places of yore as he had.  And, while she was far from a master, she felt confident that she knew the difference between the Fade and a simple wandering of the mind in the most shallow of sleeps.  There was a different quality to the experience, and this to her didn't seem real enough to be the Fade, ironically.  Before she spoke, she mulled the words of her answer over in her mind.  This was just a dream.  And, if this was just a dream, there was no reason not to speak her mind, right?  She was essentially just talking to herself, right?  Right.  “Because you haven’t walked away, Solas, like you always do.  You get close enough to touch, to love, and then you turn your back on me and go.”  She paused long enough to take a deep breath and let it out again slowly.  “If this were real, you’d already have tried to leave.”  Saying those words out loud, even in a dream, generated an unpleasant fluttering in her chest as if her heart was a panicked bird trying to escape the cage of her ribs.  For long, uncomfortable moments, the only sound was the rushing of the water around them.

 

When he finally broke the fragile silence between them with his words, she could feel the heat of his body as he drew close to her, even above the warmth of the water, and his breath grazed her ear.  "Ir abelas, Niyera," he hoarsely whispered, his hands gently gripping her upper arms.  Had he not been so close, his face buried in her hair, she could not have heard him over the roar of the falls.  An almost painful burn suffused her chest, and it was only then that she realized she'd been holding her breath.  It left her soundlessly as Solas's head dipped, his lips hovering over the skin of her shoulder.  "Ir abelas," he repeated.  A small sound of frustration left her as she hitched a shoulder.  “Sorry is not enough,” she uttered, shying away from his touch, her discomfort pulling her from beneath his hands to the far curve of the pool.  From there, she pressed her back into the stones and gazed at him silently.

  
  


As she watched his face, his expression shifted from one emotion to another in a matter of seconds.  First, a hint of shock registered, then he appeared wounded, and finally, his features settled deeply into dejection.  When he spoke, his voice was soft.  “It was never my intention to cause you pain,” he offered, turning only his head to observe her over the curve of his shoulder.  His brow fell low to hood his gaze, and the line of his mouth bent subtly down as he studied her.  The echo of her incredulous laughter in the shelter of the rocks rebounded on itself several times before fading.  

 

“Your consideration must not extend much further than yourself if you’ve failed to realize how hurtful your actions can be.   _ Ma vhenan _ ,” she ruefully tossed the endearment at him before continuing.  “You cannot call me that, then pretend you are somehow above all this...me, except when it suits you.”  Her tone had a sharpness in it she hadn’t intended, but the more she spoke, the harder the edge in her voice became.  “I don’t know what you’re hiding, but I feel it...in every word you speak, every touch.  And that’s not what I want to feel when you touch me, Solas.”  As her temper rose, she forgot herself, and she’d stood straighter, leaving the modest cover of the water behind.  It struck her now midway her ribcage, and the cool air prickled her skin.  When she realized, a deepening blush painted her cheeks, but she refused to retreat.    

 

He pressed his lips into a thin line as he turned his gaze down and away from her, and she couldn’t see it, but his hands were fists beneath the water and pressed into his thighs.  Despite how far away she was, he looked as if she’d just struck him.  Her chest was still rising and falling at a quickened pace, her breaths short and shallow, when he began to speak.  "There is so much, vhenan -," he paused, steadying his voice with a deep breath before continuing, " - that I would tell you-.”  Before he could utter another word, she slapped her fist against the water, interrupting, “But you don’t, do you!?”  The strike caused a splash that hit him in the face, even as he turned a cheek to it.  Water dripped from the tip of his nose and chin and clung in tiny beads to his eyelashes.  A heavy hand brushed across his face, wiping the water away as he looked back to her, his grey-blue eyes half-hollow.  Holding his gaze, she felt the anger begin to drain from her body, and it made her shoulders sag and she sank again to her chin in the water.   _ Why am I doing this to myself? _

 

“Just go, Solas,” she said at last, quiet and defeated as she tilted her eyes up to him.  “If that is what you wish, I will trouble you no further,” he answered before turning and wordlessly pulling himself from the pool.  As she watched him retreat, she couldn’t help but give voice to the thoughts running rampant in her head, “I don’t know why I do this to myself.  Even my dreams are a disaster.”  He didn’t glance back at her as he stooped to pick up his shirt.  He made it as far as the waterfall’s edge before he turned to glance at her.  “If you believe nothing else, believe that I  _ am _ sorry,” he uttered quietly, pausing, then adding, “Night has already fallen.  You should wake, it’s not safe enough here.  You should be at camp.”  As she stared at him, apprehension gripped her guts and the edges of her thoughts grew hazy.  This...had happened before  All at once, the landscape in her mind twisted, consumed in an instant by a void that snapped closed like a rift beneath the power of her mark.  Her breaths came in quick gulps, and she looked around, finding herself abruptly awake, alert...and alone.  

 

The expansive darkness of the recessed niche was kept at bay only by shards of moonlight refracted and reflected as they passed through the waters of the falls.  Her late afternoon had faded into twilight.  With a sort of agonizing lethargy, realization began to flood her, making her heart beat faster and her eyes widened a fraction as a chill gripped her from within.   _ That was real _ .  It  _ wasn't _ a dream.  That was  _ real _ .  "Fenedhis," she heard herself whisper as she waded to the pool's edge and hauled herself from the water.  She threw her smalls, jerkin and trousers, and boots on hurriedly, carelessly, with shaking hands as a myriad thoughts raced through her head.  It was  _ him _ .  She'd said those awful things to  _ him _ .  And, the expression etched in his features when he left?   _ Real _ .  Sweet Creators.

 

She swore again as she collected the last of her belongings and made her way down the steep climb.  From atop the last boulder, she dropped to the ground with a thud, rose from her crouch, and began to run.  Sterling moonlight dappled the large stones at the river's edge and painted a silver outline of every tree trunk, transforming the forest into a legion of tall, dark figures set aglow.  Disregarding the gravel roadway out of hand, she sprinted through the mossy maze of tree roots, carving a more direct path than the trail allowed.  Afterall, he wasn’t at camp.  He would be at the ruins he spied earlier in the day.  Even as her legs moved, her thoughts raced faster, struggling to remember the location.

  
  


The exertion painted her cheeks a rosy hue, and her calves had begun to burn when she saw a swirl of vellfire unfurl in the darkness.  She stumbled toward it, nearly tripping over a half-buried stone block, before recovered and drew nearer.  Solas was just beyond torch, his features cast in an array of greens and shadow as he sat, one leg stretched out and the other bent with his forearm resting atop it.  Her pace slowed to a brisk walk as she mounted the uneven marble floor of the ruins, and the sight of him clenched her heart in a vise that made her chest ache.  He was staring at her, eyes glazed by the vellfire, his posture one of weariness and defeat.  She exhaled ragged breaths as she threw down her staff and satchel uncaringly, leaving them behind as she strode toward him. 

  
  


As her head shook, words began to tumble from her lips, peppered between her efforts to catch her breath, and she felt powerless to stymie their flow.  "I'm sorry.  I'm so sorry," she murmured over and over again, hoarse against the painful tightening of her throat and the swell of tears that had begun to distort her vision.  The intensity of the emotions that gripped her caused the mark to flare to life, and she hissed painfully as she shook her hand and came to a stop at the end of his bedroll.  Her damp hair clung to her cheeks, and her clothes were disheveled and out of sorts from the haste of her dressing and all the running.  She forced herself to take a deep breath as he gazed wordlessly up at her.  The viridian light of the vellfire and the bright green of her mark clashed on his face, carving his features into sharp lines and deep shadows.

 

“I am so sorry.  The things I said...I didn't...I," she stammered clumsily over her words, every thought in her head vying for the same breath and jumbling on her lips into a mess of broken speech.  From the arm draped over his knee, he lifted a few fingers of his hand, shushing her words with a simple gesture.  Still short of breath, she pressed her fingertips against her mouth, trying to quash the compulsion to speak.  A deeply drawn breath made his broad chest swell.  “Never apologize for speaking unpleasant truths,” he intoned quietly.  He held her gaze for only a moment more before he averted his gaze, staring instead into the flickering light of the torch.  “I  _ have _ been selfish, and I  _ should _ have realized how my hesitation would seem from the outside.”  As he spoke, his fingers fanned through the air, curling and teasing a strand of the vellfire away from the rest.  The flame wove back and forth under the command of his simplest gesture, and a pensive shroud drew over his eyes.  “I am...unsure how long it has been since I was close to anyone.  Too long,” he said, the tone in his voice mirroring the expression in his eyes.  

 

A shallow sigh left him as he clenched his fist on empty air, and the tendril of vellfire snapped back to the torch with a crackling hiss.  It was only then that he turned his eyes upward to find hers.  “I have dwelled in a prison of my own making for ages, and I am finding it difficult to leave its shelter,” he paused, regarding her with an air of melancholy that begged for comfort.  “But, what I said was true, Niyera.  You  _ do _ change everything.  You make me crave freedom from myself in a way I never imagined I would.”  Her breath hitched, freezing in her lungs momentarily as his words washed over her and through her.  When she took step toward him and offered him an outstretched hand, he came to his knees to meet her.  He took her offering in both hands, head downcast as he brushed his thumbs over her knuckles then lifted her hand to bestow a kiss.  

 

His head canted to one side as he looked up at her, and the line of his jaw hardened for a moment as he seemed to consider her.  When he spoke, it was soft, but plain, and the only inflection she detected was one laced with fear of rejection.  “I cannot lie to you.  This will be a hazard to us both.  There are things I cannot tell you for reasons I dare not explain,” his words faltered a moment, and his eyes passed to her hand still clasped in his.  “Perhaps that will one day change.  I hope that it will.  But, until that comes to pass, I wanted to be as forthcoming as possible so you could make this decision with an awareness of the risk.”  He didn’t look up as he spoke again, voice just above a whisper, “But, regardless of what you choose, know that for as long as my heart beats, it shall be yours.”

 

Her free hand fell to his face, fingertips drawing beneath his chin to raise his gaze to hers.  She saw something in his eyes she’d never seen there before:  a vulnerability, self-doubt, and the slightest glaze that threatened to be tears.  “I accept," her words were slow, measured and deliberate.  He blinked up at her as if in question, as if seeking an affirmation that he’d heard correctly.  "I accept," she repeated as her hand rose from his chin to cup his jaw.  "You are a risk I am willing to take."  The weight of the breath that left him tugged at his shoulders and brought his head low.  He said nothing further, but leaned his forehead against her stomach and slowly slid his arms around her waist.  Her hands found the back of his head, cradling him against her, and his hold on her tightened.  “Ar lath ma,” he whispered, and she felt the warmth of his words through the linen of her shirt.  With a trembling breath, she answered simply, “Ma vhenan.”  

 


End file.
